Terror Lingers
by miley-avril
Summary: After being rescued from Neverland, Henry heals from his physical wounds, but it's the emotional ones that torment him. He can't sleep, he can't eat, and he just isn't acting like himself. Emma fights, along with her parents, to save him from himself. Henry/Emma/Charming Family fluff and feels. Rated T for language. PTSD is a topic discussed in this, so read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

**THIS WAS REALLY HARD FOR ME TO WRITE WITHOUT MAKING IT CAPTAIN SWAN. SO, I'M NOT REALLY MENTIONING HOOK BECAUSE IF I DO, IT'LL END UP BEING CAPTAIN SWAN. ALL I WANT IS TO WRITE A NICE, FLUFFY HENRY/EMMA/CHARMING FAMILY FIC. LET'S SEE HOW THIS GOES… AS ALWAYS, REVIEWS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!**

* * *

_To think that the kid was the same one who, ten years ago she had tearfully whispered 'I love you' to over and over and over again, was the same one that was standing in her door now… it was crazy. Without being given permission to, her eyes took in his face. His eyes were no longer blue, and his hair was much fuller, but his ears were the same. And his nose. That was, too. A part of her briefly wondered if he remembered her saying goodbye to him all those years ago._

* * *

"That's the last freaking time I'm losing you, Kid." Emma said, not particularly caring that the rest of their highly dysfunctional search and rescue team was also huddled around the fire and could hear her.

"Yeah, four's enough." Henry nodded in agreement, snuggling up against her. His head felt good on her shoulder, the blonde noted, although his elbow was sticking into a bruised rib she had received from one of the lost boys (though he ended up with far worse than a bruised rib.) In the silence and stillness of the night, the orange flames cracked and popped, sending sparks up into the sky.

"So…" Emma's lips twitched, then lifted into a smirk, "you still think being stranded in a new land, with things trying to eat you, and people trying to kill you is 'awesome'?" She had meant it as a joke, she really had. But Henry didn't react with his usual giggle and smile. He muttered something and stood up, walking down the beach a ways, kicking the sand in such an adorable way Emma would have smiled if she didn't think something was wrong. Regina wanted to roll her eyes at the other woman's utter lack of brilliance –not that it wasn't surprising, considering her parents were the two idiots, but still– yet she found that she couldn't. Not after Emma had jumped in front of Pan's sword to save Henry from it. She had healed herself, so Regina didn't feel too bad. Apparently, the Savior couldn't be killed from a mortal wound when royally pissed off. Which was unfortunate for Regina, since it made her job as mayor that much more difficult when one Emma Swan was in a bad mood. The brunette's mind briefly drifted, wondering how she hadn't been impeached yet.

With a groan, Emma pushed herself up off the log and called after Henry. In the spirit of good parents everywhere, Snow and Charming followed, not caring that leaving Hook, Regina, and Gold by themselves would probably result in World War Three. So, they were left sitting on their respective logs, watching mother and father chasing after their daughter, who was chasing after their grandson, listening to fading yells of "Henry!", followed by "Emma!"

It was easy enough to find Henry. He stayed on the sand, and while Snow might have been able to leave tracks invisible to the night, Henry had his mother's and grandfather's lack of tact and bountiful impulsivity.

"Hey, Henry, you can't just–" Emma cut herself off when she took in her son's shaking form. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, and his eyes were wide and fearful, darting every which way. "Henry!" She exclaimed, rushing over to his side and dropping to her knees. "Come on, Henry, look at me. You're safe now, no one's gonna hurt you." She said as she scooped him up into her arms, laying his head on her lap. After nearly a minute of stroking his hair, Henry's breathing finally slowed down to a point that was a little less near hyperventilation. "You're okay, Sweetie." Emma whispered.

"M-mom?" Henry's voice was little, unlike the confident boy everyone knew and loved.

"It's okay, Henry." She pulled him tighter to her. Seeing the situation was defused, Snow and Charming cautiously approached mother and son.

"Emma?" James said softly. She swiveled her head to smile up at him.

"Hey."

"Maybe you two should come back to the camp. I know we defeated Pan and the lost boys, but it still scares me that you two are out here. We're safer in a big group." Snow looked at James, who nodded in agreement.

"I know." Emma said. "Just give him a minute to calm down." She turned her attention back to the boy. "Henry, do you know where you are?"

"Yeah." He said after a moment. "You and Gramma and Gramps and all them… we're a little ways away from the camp. I'm currently laying on your lap, and you just called me 'Sweetie'."

"I–I did no–" Well, _shit_, she had, hadn't she? "Shut up. Your grandma's right." James pulled Henry up by one of his arms while Emma pushed him off of her. She accepted Snow's hand as she, too, was pulled up. Charming and Henry started walking back toward the fire, which was only a dim flicker in the distance, while Snow let them get out of ear shot so she could talk to Emma.

"What happened?" She whispered.

"He had a panic attack." The blonde answered, her gaze firmly set on her two boys… well, one man that acted like a boy and one actual boy who was growing up far too fast for her liking.

"Oh my God!" Snow continued her whispering. "But why?"

"Have you ever heard of post-traumatic stress disorder?" Emma asked, placing a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder to stop their walking.

"PTSD!?" Never one for discretion, Snow chose that moment to stop whispering. Emma nearly did a face palm.

"Yeah… you know… this is after –post– the traumatic experience, so he's stressed about it." She tried to lay it out as simply as possible. "And I set off the panic attack when I reminded him of what he went through."

"Is he… he's going to be okay, right?" Snow felt bad, looking for her daughter to comfort her when it should be the other way around, but Emma knew what she was talking about.

"It'll take time." Emma nodded, as if reassuring herself. "And therapy, but… you know, I'm not Archie. I can't say for sure, but that's what it looks like–"

"How do you know what it's like, what it is?" Snow cut in. Before replying, Emma looked toward the fire again. Henry and James must be there by now, she thought. So she motioned for them to start walking again.

"Because I was nineteen when I was diagnosed with PTSD after going in for emergency surgery for a near-fatal stab wound I received during a chase I gave to one of my bail jumpers."

* * *

**I REALLY WANTED THIS TO BE A ONE-SHOT, BUT IT WENT OFF IN ANOTHER DIRECTION. I THINK MORE IMPORTANTLY, THOUGH, I'VE ONLY SEEN ONE FIC IN THE OUAT FANDOM THAT HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH PTSD, WHICH IS SOMETHING A NUMBER OF THE CHARACTERS COULD HAVE, AND IT'S SOMETHING THAT HITS CLOSE TO HOME FOR ME. SO I JUST… I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT.**


	2. Chapter 2

**WOW, YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT YOU'VE GIVEN THIS STORY. AND MY APOLOGIES FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE. I'VE BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL (AGAIN), AND THEN I HAD SOME WORK DUE FOR CLASSES THAT I'M TAKING. SO YEAH. HAPPY READING!**

They made it back to Storybrooke over night. Regina snapped at Hook about it taking them nearly two weeks to even see land when they were beginning their journey, and Hook replied with something about the currents. Needless to say, the two were still annoyed at each other (then again, Regina was always annoyed at everyone), which made everything that much harder for Emma when she tried to bring Henry back to the apartment; Regina wasn't glaring at her. If anything, and if Emma didn't know her better, she'd say her eyes were pleading. Which is exactly how she, Regina, Henry, Snow, and James ended up camping in Regina's living room.

James and Emma, after each taking quick showers, had brought Henry's mattress down for him to sleep on. Regina refused to let the poor kid out of her sight, so she didn't sleep in her room. After moving the couches to the opposite sides of the room (and claiming it was to make room for the two idiots, as Regina put it), the two of them called dibs on the couches. Not that Snow and James minded. They would always take the floor instead of having their baby sleep on it.

Snow hadn't pushed Emma to talk about her PTSD the night before, and for once, she probably wouldn't. The blonde had, although not in so many words, said she had seeked help for it. Even though that was only a year after Neal, Snow was willing to bet that her wall was already high, so for her to want to talk about anything, it must have been bad. So Snow wasn't going to bring up those bad memories. She was actually going to be patient for once.

They were all sleeping soundly until Henry started whimpering in his sleep. Emma's eyes shot open in an instant, and before she knew it, she was hopping over her parents to Henry on his little island of a mattress. Regina stirred, too, and was on red-alert. She knelt down next to Emma, the both of them shaking Henry. After nearly a minute, he sat up so fast he almost head-butted Regina.

"Mom!" He gasped. Neither woman knew which one he was calling out for, but both responded by pulling him close, which was a little hard to do since he was only one person and there was two of them. The familiarity of their not-so-secret feud seemed to get him fully awake, because he calmed down. Once he realized that he was in both of his mothers' arms, he pulled back, rolling onto his mattress again, embarrassed. He was a prince, he wasn't supposed to get scared.

"Was it the red room again, Henry?" Regina whispered. She wasn't watching her volume as a courtesy to Snow and James, but so any sudden noise wouldn't scare Henry.

"It was just a nightmare." He replied, his back to them. Emma stole a glance at Regina, and what she saw made her feel just a tiny bit empathetic. The brunette was clearly shaken, having not seen anything like that from Henry before. Regina felt Emma's gaze on her and flicked her almond eyes over to Emma's green ones.

"We'll be right back, okay, Kid?" Emma patted his shoulder and motioned for Regina to follow her into the kitchen. She had no intention whatsoever of opening up about her own experience with post-traumatic stress disorder, but she figured the other woman had a right to know if their son (and yes, Emma was willing to call him that as of that moment) had PTSD. Not that Emma was a hundred percent sure, but still… she supposed if, hypothetically, Regina thought Henry was cursed, she'd want to know, even if it _was_ just a hunch.

"Yes?" Regina tapped her bare foot impatiently, arms crossed. Only then did the blonde take in just _how small_ she was when she wasn't in her five inch stilettos. Emma actually had to look _down_ to meet her gaze.

"He had a nightmare." The blonde barely kept herself from stammering and stuttering. Just how was she supposed to drop the bombshell? Oh, by the way, our son probably has PTSD and he is most definitely not okay? And how was she supposed to keep Regina from asking questions? Emma could already feel a migraine coming on, and it was only… two AM. Lovely.

"I can see that. If you think just because you have a month's worth of parenting experience, you know more about being a mother than me, then you–"

"_Regina_." Emma grit out, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she throttled her. "Last night, he had a panic attack. Those are two symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, and I'm ninety nine percent sure he uh… he has that. So…" She really was doing just fine in her explanation. Her voice was steady and calm and she was pretty sure her anger was very well concealed. That was until she opened her eyes again and saw Regina's face. The former queen looked like she either wanted to throw something or cry.

"No." The brunette shook her head. "No. Henry doesn't, he can't… he's… Henry. He takes everything in stride, he–" Emma cut her off,

"Has been through Hell in the past few months and was abducted by a pair of crazies who did God knows what to him. I'd be worried if he _was_ okay. This a perfectly normal response to an abnormal situation, okay? I'll bring him to Archie again, and–"

"_You'll_ bring him to Archie?" Regina raised a perfect eyebrow at the other woman. "He's–"

"Let's not do this right now, okay? I don't think… being shuffled between us won't do him any good, Regina. He needs something constant because everything else _hasn't _been."

"Right, you get him because you're the Savior and I'm the Evil Queen." Her voice was full of venom.

"No." Emma shook her head. How she was still calm, she had no idea, especially at this time of night. Day? She didn't really care at the moment. "After what happened in Neverland, I think everyone will agree you're different now. You saved my mo– Mary Margaret from getting hit by an arrow. It's not that we don't trust you… okay, so I'm the only one that trusts you, but I think that's a work in progress… look," Emma sighed, "before he was taken, he was living with me. If he suddenly starts living with you, even just half the time, that's a change in his way of life. We need to show him that nothing's really changed. I mean, obviously things have, he was kidnapped and it's going to be scary for him for a while, but his way of life here doesn't have to change." The fire from Regina's eyes dissipated, and she nodded, her jaw clenched. She knew Emma was holding something back from her, but the tacit between them made her stay quiet and not pry.

"I wasn't aware you're not as much of an idiot as your parents." At that, Emma smiled that annoying goofy grin. "I said 'as much'. I still think you're rather senseless, rash, impulsive, and a bit of a blockhead."

"Gee, thanks."

* * *

By the time Regina, Henry, and Emma woke up, Snow and James had already started breakfast: pancakes. As Regina padded out to the kitchen (she now knew where Henry got his inability to jump out of bed from), she wanted to scream. _Snow White_ was in _her_ kitchen, using _her_ utensils. That was a problem.

"What are you doing?" She snapped.

"Well, you and Emma were up with Henry last night, so we thought–"

"Actually, Snow thought. I'm just here to get plates down. Apparently I burn stuff."

"I didn't say that." Snow redirected her attention from Regina to her husband, and that only made the brunette madder.

"Move away from the stove before I light you on fire with it." She threatened, fully intending to take over before the two idiots burned her house down. From the living room, they heard Emma mutter something along the lines of 'your mom's gonna kill mine, so let's get out there before they end up killing all of us'. After Regina finished the pancakes, they all sat at the table, the only sound being that of forks clanking. It occurred to Emma then just how much they relied on Henry to be their conversation director. Without his usual jibber jabber, everything sounded so… weird. Then again, it could have been the fact that they were eating with Regina. That never happened. After he whoofed down his pancakes (well before anyone else was even half way done, including Emma), Henry excused himself to the bathroom. Emma sighed, sharing a look with Snow. Everyone else rushed, nearly choking, because without Henry even at the table with them, it was just too awkward.

"David?" Emma said quietly, but her voice seemed incredibly loud. It was the first time anyone had spoken since sitting down to eat.

"Yeah?" They all were relieved to have the pressure taken off to converse.

"Maybe we should go move Regina's furniture back…" He was about to agree, then looked between Snow and Regina. Leaving the two of them unsupervised? Emma might be okay with it, as long as the two didn't even look at each other, but James most definitely wasn't okay with it. And Snow couldn't offer to help; it would seem like they were all running away from Regina, and that would be taking about a billion steps back. Regina, though she would never admit this aloud, was a tiny bit –just a tiny bit, she reiterated in her head– touched that all of them were considering her emotional well-being.

"Snow and I can bring Henry's mattress up." She said with an eye roll to cover up the stinging behind her eyes. "And no, I won't shove her down the stairs and say the mattress did it."

"Okay." Emma smiled because smiling at Regina when you were being genuine was always better than not reacting to her trying to be a better person. "Um… so do you want the dishes in the sink or…?"

"You can just leave them there." The brunette answered, even though she was itching to clean it up. "After you bring Henry back to the apartment," she was careful not to say 'take', "I'll get it."

"Okay." The blonde shrugged again. After sparing another glance at Snow, James followed his daughter.

* * *

When the four of them got inside of the quaint apartment, Henry made a beeline for his room. James turned to Emma, his face demanding –but loving, always so loving– and explanation. The blonde suddenly felt like a teenager, and she didn't like it one bit.

"This is the third time I've had to go over this!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. She was scared that her luck was going to run out and someone was going to ask her questions. James was startled by her outburst, and she felt guilty. "Sorry." She studied a tile on the kitchen floor intently. "Didn't sleep good last night."

"Well." Snow automatically corrected, some of Mary Margaret peeking through.

"What's 'this'?" James asked.

"Nothing." Emma said quickly, starting for the stairs. But Snow and James anticipated her move, and flanked her from either side. With nowhere to run, Emma sighed. "this is what I get for having parents who were slash are freaking soldiers."

"I was a knight," James started, but Snow cut him off,

"Bandit."

"You were a knight, too." He said. "Once you were no longer a wanted criminal, you didn't have to be a bandit anymore."

"I never should have been a wanted criminal." Never one to throw away an opportunity, Emma made a run –literally– for the kitchen.

"Emma, don't think you're getting out of telling me about 'this'!" James called after her.

"Fruit Loops. All I want is some freaking Fruit Loops." Emma yelled back. She banged around in the cabinet until she found the box. Her triumph was short lived, however. "Damnit!"

"Em?"

"They expired." She answered. "And I bet everything in here is, too."

"It's okay, we'll go shopping later." Snow said, her voice calming Emma down just a little.

"But I'm hungry _now_." The blonde whined, slumping onto a stool.

"You just ate, Honey." James said, following Snow to the breakfast bar, where he leaned on the counter.

"You just want to stress eat, that's all. I have an emergency stash of Oreos in here, not that I condone cookies after breakfast, but they have enough preservatives they should still be good." After a minute, once Emma was settled with her snack, James asked again,

"You ready to tell me what's wrong with Henry?"

"Nothing's wrong with him." She said sharply. "He just…" she said around a mouthful of an Oreo, "I think he has PTSD –post-traumatic stress disorder– but that doesn't mean something's _wrong_."

"No, it doesn't." He said quietly, putting his larger hand over Emma's smaller one. "I didn't mean anything by that, Emma. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." She said, equally as quiet, seemingly drained from her Fruit Loops outburst. "I only reacted like that cause," she took a deep breath, then made the plunge, "I had PTSD nine years ago."

"Is Henry's going to trigger yours again?" Snow asked.

"I don't think so, I dealt with it." The blonde shook her head, then pulled the cover back on the Oreos. "If you guys wanna dig around for _The Avengers_, Henry might want to watch it."

"You think it'll work?"

Getting up, Emma said with a shrug, "It's worth a shot."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'M SENDING OUT VIRTUAL HUGS TO EVERYONE WHO READ AND/OR REVIEWED! YOU GUYS ARE THE **_**BEST**_**! WHEN I USE ITALICS, IT'S A FLASHBACK. JUST SO YOU KNOW. AND I ALSO WANT TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT THE FLASHBACKS ARE FROM EMMA'S POINT OF VIEW. SO ANYTHING SHE SAYS/THINKS IS WHAT SHE BELIEVES, WHETHER OR NOT IT'S ACTUALLY TRUE. SO WHO'S READY FOR CHAPTER 3?**

* * *

Smiling triumphantly, James held up _The Avengers_ for all to see. Even though Snow had organized and reorganized their movie collection, Emma had done a number on it in the few nights before Henry had been taken. Now, all he and Snow had to do was wait for Emma to come back down with Henry. If this didn't at least bring a small smile to his face, then something was seriously wrong. Not that they didn't consider him having PTSD being a small thing, but _The Avengers_ was his favorite movie. They had to watch it at least once a week.

"I'll make popcorn." Snow said. She never was good at waiting.

"Honey, it's ten AM." James reasoned.

"The smell of food might help him to want to do something." She replied.

"It'll certainly get Emma down here." He joked. "But whatever will help." With that, husband and wife set out on a search for un-expired popcorn.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Emma poised her fist on the door to her and Henry's room. She knocked,

"Henry?" After a few moments of shuffling, it opened. "Hey, so we're gonna watch _The Avengers_," she wanted to trail off when she didn't see any spark in her son's eyes, but she pressed on, "and I think I smell popcorn. Do you wanna watch it with us..?"

Henry desperately wanted to say 'no'. He just wanted to lay in bed and be left alone. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. Actually, he didn't think he _could_ feel the joy he once felt at watching his favorite movie. Everything was too… this was when a bigger vocabulary would have come in handy. He couldn't explain it, and that made everything worse. He felt so out of control, and so scared. He didn't know why. None of it made any sense. Still, he nodded and slipped past Emma, who was still standing in the doorway. Only then did she realize just how much weight the boy had lost. The thought of him being malnourished from the time he spent in Neverland made her heart clench.

* * *

_It's been three months, nineteen year old Emma thinks. Three months and she's still scared of every single person that walks by her on the sidewalk. She hadn't used Neal's car yet, even just to live in until she found a place after getting out of prison. She didn't want to need his help, even if it was just a car. So she walked everywhere. She was supposed to go to work tonight for the first time since the stabbing. Key words: supposed to. She couldn't. It was a new city, yes. But that didn't mean catching her targets would be any easier, especially considering the nine inch incision that went the length of her stomach. It rarely hurt anymore, but when she moved a certain way, she still expected it to. Sometimes she swore it did. Besides, she didn't think she was physically capable of running after someone anymore, especially if he or she put up a fight. She was always a thin person, very athletic. Track in high school probably saved her life once or twice. But even she admitted that right now, she was practically emaciated. The point was proven further when she looked down at her still-full plate of mashed potatoes and chicken. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. She felt stupid. Yes, she had been stabbed –but never a stab _victim_– and apparently she flat lined on the table during surgery. Emergency surgery. She didn't even get time to prepare for it. The worst part was that it was her fault she was in this position in the first place. The guy had obviously known the part of town they were in well, because he led them to an alley. And he obviously had martial arts experience because while Emma liked to think she was fairly skilled in hand to hand combat –she'd grown up in the system, after all– this guy was good. Really good. And when he pulled that knife, she didn't stand a chance. But she would have, if only she was more skilled and stronger. So no, in this state, she really didn't think it was wise to go chasing after criminals._

* * *

Henry was curled up against Emma, a third of his attention on the move, a third on the popcorn he was shoveling into his mouth, and the other third on the door. Internally, the blonde sighed. If he wasn't completely engrossed in the movie, it was worse than she thought. Dragging her own attention away (even after seeing it ten times, she loved it), she began to think. There was the whole poisoned apple incident. And the Archie's-dead-and-your-other-mom-killed-him-no-wai t-he's-not-actually-dead thing. There was also the fire room thing, not even letting him forget that he was poisoned one of his mothers, even if it was meant for the other one. So adding being kidnapped by two crazy people after finding out that his dad died and being taken to Neverland would, of course, be all the more traumatic. Emma was all the more grateful no one objected when she volunteered to be the one to kick Tamara's ass –Regina took care of Greg– and left them weak enough that the Shadow could take them to the Shadow World. The brunette was much happier making Greg suffer through magic. The one rule was no fire balls, at which Regina did a fake pout. Emma, on the other hand, took great pleasure in actually being the one to hurt her. Though people claimed she had anger management issues, as well as violent tendencies, she strongly disagreed. That woman hurt her baby, and she had to pay. By the time the end credits came on, Henry was already pulling the blanket off of him and Emma.

"I'll be back in a little bit." He said and took off for his room. This time, Emma sighed aloud.

"He ate all the popcorn. I was gonna run to Granny's, but I kinda just–"

"I'll make grilled cheese." Snow cut her off with a smile. Emma was in sweatpants for once and actually looked comfy, instead of crammed into jeans.

"Okay." The blonde nestled back into the plush sofa, wrapping the blanket around her. While Snow started on lunch, James ejected the DVD and put it back in its case, then proceeded to organize the DVD's a little bit. She didn't like how she felt the silence needed to be filled. She didn't like that she didn't know what to say. She didn't like the fact that she felt like a little girl right now, because she felt like running over to James and giving him the biggest hug in the world. Maybe it was because Henry was being so distant, and she now understood how they felt. Well, she had since Henry found out she lied to him about Neal, but she wasn't ready at that point. Instead of running over to him, she took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Dad?" Immediately, James jumped to his feet and turned around, eyes all concerned and loving. This was the second time she'd called him that, and it still made his heart jump just as much as the first time.

"Yeah, Emma?"

"Do you um… do you wanna go for a walk outside for a little bit?"

"Sure thing." He helped pull her off the couch and handed her her jacket. From the kitchen, Snow smiled to herself. Once they were outside, away from where Henry could here, she spoke up again.

"I'm worried about him."

"We all are, Emma." James assured her. He wanted to shorten her name, but she had called him 'Dad' again, and he didn't want to push too hard. So he wrapped an arm around her shoulder as the leaned against the hood of his truck. "He's a tough kid. He'll get through this."

"It's not that easy." She said quietly. "I told you earlier about… how I had it. And… it took me a long time to get over. I mean, I guess I might as well tell you why I had PTSD, as long as you promise not to kill the nearest person."

"I promise." He said, even quieter than she had been speaking. He was afraid that if he made too loud a noise, she'd run away. After a deep breath and a pause, she said,

"I was stabbed when I was nineteen during a fight with one of my bail jumpers. It… was bad. They… the doctors, they told me I flat lined on the table and…" her throat suddenly seized up, and she felt like she couldn't breathe, especially around the lump in her throat, and it surprised the Hell out of her. She had dealt with it _nine_ years ago. No, this most certainly wasn't a panic attack, right? Sure, she hadn't talked about it since she was done with her shrink eight years ago, but still… she was _over_ it. James held her tighter, but he could feel his own panic rising. He knew how to deal with angry Emma, sad Emma, murderous Emma, but scared Emma? This was the first time he'd seen her scared like this. On the boat –ship, as Hook constantly corrected them– she'd done a good job of hiding her fear for Henry's safety due to the other people on it. But now was a whole different story. He did the only thing he knew how to do: hug her and whisper comforting words into her hair in between the light kisses. It felt like minutes, but was really only moments, by the time she pulled away, eyes shining with tears, but stubbornly refusing to let them fall. "I don't want him to go through what I went through." She whispered.

"Well…" he started slowly, "it's already happening, but what you _can_ do is be there for him, something I'm guessing you didn't have?"

"I saw a shrink for nine months or so… I mean, I had support there, but… no, not in the way you mean. But I fought it for so long, and I was in denial, and I don't want that to happen to Henry. I want him to get better as soon as possible. But I don't want to send him to Archie too soon, you know? I want him to understand that it's ok and he'll be fine and… and that there's nothing wrong with him."

"He'll know, Emma." James rubbed her back. "We'll make sure of that."

"C'mon." She pushed off of the hood of the truck, his promise bringing them into mushy-off-limits-territory. "I'm hungry."

* * *

They ate, once again, in silence. And, again, Henry was done well before everyone else. And, once again, he ran up to his and Emma's room. After putting her plate in the sink, Emma excused herself to have a talk with Henry. She knocked on the door.

"You can come in, Mom." The boy said softly. Emma smiled a little bit as she entered. He knew it was her.

"How'd you know it wasn't David?" She asked, suddenly not sure she'd be able to have this conversation without losing her grilled cheese.

"Dunno." He mumbled with a shrug. "Gramps walks louder, and I can't ever here Grandma's footsteps. You're somewhere in between, so…" another shrug.

"Oh." She said. "Can I sit?" She gestured toward the bed. She had been meaning to get a twin bed to stick in there, but they needed the dresser since the closet couldn't hold all of their clothes. She was beginning to think Snow was right; they needed a bigger house.

"Yeah." He nodded, staring at his hands, which were wringing in his lap. He scooched over a little bit.

"Henry, I want to talk to you about something, but I need you to keep an open mind." She said slowly.

"You're asking _me_ to keep an open mind?" He almost smiled.

"Point taken." She laughed, if only to cover up her nervousness. "But um, I don't really know how to put this. I've never had to do this before, so I guess I'll just lay it all out there and um, you can take from it what you will." She took a deep breath, then made the plunge. "What you've been through these past few months must've been confusing and scary."

"Not really." He said quietly. Emma didn't need her lie detector to know he wasn't telling the truth.

"Okay, cut the crap, Kid." She said. "I won't tick of a list of everything, but you've almost died _twice_. You've been kidnapped, and that's not even counting the fact that your life has been completely taken apart and put back together. With duct tape."

"Gramps wasn't scared! Grandma wasn't scared! _You_ weren't!" She hadn't been expecting him to have an angry outburst. Not at all. Which was why she raised her voice, too.

"You think I wasn't scared Henry? We all were! I was scared you were gonna–" Emma's voice broke. After a breath she said, much quieter, "I was scared we were too late." He deflated, too, and threw himself into her welcoming arms, shaking with sobs. "It's okay to be scared, Henry." She whispered, stroking his hair.

"But I'm a prince." He sniffled. "Princes don't get scared." Oh, how she wished David was having this conversation with him. Not that she didn't doubt he and Snow were standing outside their door now, eavesdropping. She pried him off of her side so she could look him in the eye.

"_Everyone_ gets scared, Henry. It doesn't matter if you're a prince, the queen of England, an astronaut, or Regina Mills. _Everyone_ does. What makes you any different?"

"Cause I'm the son of the Evil Queen and the Savior." Henry insisted.

"Regina and I are just people, Henry." She really didn't want to tell him about her past, but it looked like she had no choice. "Do you know what PTSD is?"

"I think so." He said with a nasally voice. "But I don't have–"

"I did." She cut him off, a resolve to her she didn't even know she had. She was going to get him to understand that fear is nothing to be ashamed of, dammit, even if it killed her. "Nine years ago, I was stabbed. I almost died. I had PTSD, but I saw a therapist and I'm better. _You_ will be fine, Henry. I promise you that."

"_You_ did?" His eyes widened in surprise. "I can't… I can't picture you ever being scared. I didn't think you did."

"Yeah, well." She rolled her eyes, dragging him off the bed with her. "That's what I want people to think. Come on, I think Mary Margaret's making brownies now. I can smell 'em." On their way down the stairs, Henry said,

"So I have to see Archie again?"

"You don't have to do anything. I just think it would help. A lot."

"Okay." He nodded after a moment. "If you think it'll help."

"Okay." She smiled, squeezing his hand. "I can call him and see if he has an appointment today..?"

"Okay." He repeated. He felt better. At least now he didn't have to pretend he was fine, and that alone made a difference.


	4. Chapter 4

**SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE. I GOT DISTRACTED BY "ONE NIGHT", WHICH IS A GOOD 7,000+ WORDS, SO I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT. I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT, IT WOULDN'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD TILL I WAS DONE. **

**I DON'T OWN ONCE UPON A TIME.**

"Hi, Henry." Archie chirped, opening the door to his office widely, a huge smile plastered to his face. He really did love the kid.

"Hi, Archie." Henry smiled a real smile. Archie was his friend.

"Emma." The man nodded his greeting.

"Hi." Suddenly, she was nervous. She never had liked psychologists' offices, or any kind of doctor offices, for that matter. She kept reminding herself that Archie's only interest would be in Henry, not her.

"Why don't we sit down." He suggested, adjusting his glasses as he led mother and son into the room. Emma and Henry took a seat on the couch next to each other. As Archie eased himself into the leather chair, he mentally took note of how different Henry was; the light in the boy's eyes only showed up sometimes, and he was definitely subdued. He almost wondered if it was the same Henry he had known for eleven years. "Would you like it to be just you and me? If that's alright with your mom, of course."

"Whatever he wants." Emma replied, looking over to Henry.

"I want just me and Archie." He mumbled.

"Okay." She said quietly, not taking any offense. "I'll go… do stuff. Be back in an hour?"

"I'd say so." Archie smiled warmly. "Would you give my regards to your parents?"

"Uh… yeah." It took her a moment to realize who he was talking about. Her parents: Snow White and Prince Charming. Right. "I'll be back soon, Henry."

Once she closed the door, Archie turned his attention back to Henry.

"So, what's been bothering you?" On the phone, Emma had briefly explained that the poor kid was, as she had put it 'severely traumatized by the crazy bitch and her ass ugly sidekick', so Archie had a little bit of an idea as to what was going on.

"My mom thinks I have PTSD." Henry stated. "And I think she's right."

"Oh." He put on his best 'I had no idea' face. "Is that… do you think that's a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It explains a lot." He said slowly. "And I guess… I mean, I'm okay with having it, cause Mom did, too, and she's fine now." Archie made a mental note to somehow figure out of Emma was okay, considering her past was being brought up by this.

"I heard a little bit about what happened from Ruby. I can't even imagine how scary it must have been, to be stuck in Neverland for a month, especially after everything else you've been through." At that, Henry only shrugged.

"I knew they were coming for me." He mumbled. "My family always finds each other."

"Okay… let me ask you this: do you feel safe right now?"

"What do you mean?" Of course he felt safe with his family, even Regina.

"Do you feel like Greg and Tamara are going to take you again?"

"Logically, I understand that they can't. The shadows got them. But I don't think my head believes that. I heard my mom and Snow talking, and she mentioned something about 'panic attacks'."

"Do you think you get them?"

"Sometimes, I get really scared for no reason, and I start shaking and I feel like I can't breathe or focus on anything except the fear."

"That would be a panic attack, my friend." Archie said quietly, making a note in his notebook. "Would you feel comfortable talking about what happened in Neverland?"

"No." Henry shook his head ferociously. "I don't wanna think about it."

"Alright. We can talk about something else, then."

"Like what?"

"Well, how about you tell me funny stories about Operation Cobra?" At the suggestion, Henry's eyes lit up once again.

* * *

Emma drove aimlessly around Storybrooke until she was back at the apartment. She figured with the fifteen minutes she had before she'd have to leave to grab Henry, she could have a snack. Just as she lifted the tinfoil to swipe another brownie (she had sneaked two in before she took Henry to Archie's), Snow batted her hand away.

"Hey!" The blonde exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. "When'd you get here?"

"A few seconds ago." Snow replied coolly. "If you want something to eat, have some fruit or a granola bar."

"You know," Emma said over her shoulder as she opened the fridge to find the raspberries, "I ate like that for twenty eight years, and I'm just fine."

"It's not good for you." The brunette said, fixing her with a stern look. "And this is what mothers do, bug their children about eating right." Not able to think of a good response to that, Emma simply stuck her tongue out before popping a raspberry into her mouth. "So, Henry kicked you out."

"Yeah." The blonde sighed, shrugging off her coat before sitting on a stool. "But I get it. If I had to bear my soul to someone, I wouldn't want an audience."

"I suppose so." Snow put a finger on her chin in thought, then turned back to the other woman. "Emma, how are _you_ doing?"

"Me?" She scoffed. "I'm fine. Or, I will be once Henry's okay." The brunette sent her an 'I don't believe you, but whatever you say look'. At Emma's silence, she ducked her head down to meet her gaze.

"Emma." She said firmly. "You know you can tell me _anything_, right?" The blonde silently cursed Snow's warm, inviting eyes.

"I had a panic attack earlier." She mumbled so quietly, Snow almost missed it. But she didn't. She was used to the blonde mumbling things she either: wasn't particularly proud of or didn't want to talk about but secretly did want to. "Talking to David, I sort of recounted what happened to me, and…" She sighed. "I've thought about it before, in more detail than I went into with him, but I freaked out. I can't figure out why."

"Well, thinking about it and actually saying the words are two different things." Snow said. "Subconsciously when you're thinking about it, you can block certain parts of the memories and you can control just how much you think about it… but when you say words, your brain functions differently. You can't block it out as much."

"Since when did you become a neuroscientist?"

"You and me aren't that different, Emma." The brunette said quietly, almost lost in thought. "You may have hair color that is more similar to his, but your personality's all mine."

Emma munched on another raspberry, watching her mother closely. She had to admit, she was a little curious as to where the conversation was going. Snow took the blonde's silence as permission to continue.

"I know what it's like to shut yourself away from every emotion because you think it's better that way, especially after going through multiple traumas. If you choose not to feel _anything_, you don't have to feel the fear." Snow paused, looking up from her mug of hot chocolate to make sure Emma was still listening and hadn't shut down. Satisfied that her daughter was okay with the conversation, she continued, taking Emma's hand. "I know it's hard for you to admit to being afraid, or anything other than 'fine'. And in the past, I also know you've been taken advantage of or hurt because you were vulnerable. But your father and I, and Henry, we're not like those people. Obviously Henry's PTSD is affecting you, and we are _all _here for you, Emma. Always."

"I know." She said, her voice subdued by the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. "It's just so hard, after so long of… having this… this..." There were times, such as now, that she cursed her lack of eloquence.

"Tough exterior?" Snow helpfully supplied. Offering her a small smile, Emma said,

"Yeah. It's hard to let that go. It's almost like… like it's a part of me, and it isn't so much a fear of being vulnerable as it is just a… I hate to be, you know? I resent it. I'm not making any sense, I know, but you've kinda learned my language, haven't you?"

"I have." She chuckled. "I know what you mean." Sensing Emma was done with the conversation (and knowing the blonde was fighting tears), she turned to the stove to pour her daughter a mug of their favorite beverage, giving Emma time to regain her composure. While Snow had simply added a pinch of cinnamon straight into the liquid, she puts and extra-large squirt of whipped cream onto Emma's before heaping on a generous amount of cinnamon.

"What's the difference between this and a brownie?" Emma deadpanned, but the slight redness of her eyes took away some of the effect.

"There isn't much." Snow shrugged, then took a sip of her own. "But I think you deserve it."

"Oh?" Emma raised an eyebrow. "And what did I do to deserve it?"

"You opened up to me, you let your walls down a little. I want you to know how much that means to me." Snow explained. Emma rolled her eyes.

"So you're bribing me with sugar?"

"If that's what it takes, yes." With another eye roll, the blonde slid off the stool.

"I have to go pick up Henry." She said, throwing on her coat. "While I'm out, want me to bring home lasagna for dinner?"

"Do you ever stop thinking about food?" Snow quipped.

"Do you want me to bring home dinner or not?"

"I have nothing to do for the next few hours, so I figured I'd make something. Is homemade pizza alright with you?"

"Anything except Chimera is alright with me." With that, Emma left.

* * *

After pacing in the hallway for a few minutes, the wooden door opened, revealing Archie and Henry.

"Hey, Kid." She smiled, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Hi."

"Emma, can I talk to you for a minute?" Archie asked.

"Sure." She shrugged and followed him into the office. Henry shut the door for them. While Archie chose to sit in his designated chair, Emma chose to stand. This didn't go unnoticed by Archie.

"I do think you're right. He has PTSD." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Not a surprise." She crossed her arms, not at all comfortable being in a shrink's office. "What's the game plan?"

"Behavioral Cognitive Therapy will be helpful, I think." Archie started, "and I think until that starts to work its magic, perhaps putting Henry on something to relax him, to take the edge off."

"Getting him to be able to sleep through the night without nightmares would be good." She nodded. "He's… always scared, I can see that."

"My thoughts exactly." Archie wrote something on his prescription pad. "I just would like to get a little bit of family history… does anyone in your family have or have had PTSD?" Sure, he already knew from Henry that she had had it, but she could have been telling just a tiny little white lie to help him, though the boy had explained that Emma promised to never lie to him again. But it was also a way for Archie to help Emma in the process, even if she wasn't aware that her PTSD could act up again.

"Well, considering my family consists of Regina and Gold, among others, I wouldn't know. We don't exactly have heart to hearts on a regular basis."

"I meant Mary Margaret and David, or you. The chances of one developing PTSD can be increased due to inheritance." Archie explained and Emma sighed.

"I don't know about Mary Margaret. I've read Henry's book, but it… look, I don't know, I don't think so, but then again, the damn woman's always at me about being guarded but she's only a little bit better than me." The blonde ranted. "And David? I don't think so. Can anyone ever be _too_ optimistic? Like is there a condition for that?"

"Emma." Archie cut her off. "What about you? Did your or do you have PTSD?"

"Yes!" She nearly yelled, so engulfed in her irritation, she didn't realize she was talking to sweet, kind Archie. "Sorry, I just… sorry." She sunk down into the chair Henry had previously been occupying.

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly, knowing she got her temperament from her mother. "Did Snow –sorry Mary Margaret– ever tell you about the time she drank a potion to forget David?"

"She didn't tell me, but Henry mentioned something about it." She seemed a little calmer.

"She'd always been moody, rather irritated, sassy…I could go on." A smile grew on his face at the thought of his friend. "But after she took love away from her life for good, she became dark, and, as one of the dwarves put it… maybe it was Happy? There's so many of them. Anyway, she was mean."

"I know. She didn't let me have a brownie earlier." She quipped.

"My _point_ is that if your mother of all people can get very, very angry, then anyone can. So don't feel bad."

"She can be a real bitch when she wants to be." Emma said, thinking back to the numerous conversations Snow and Mulan had had that almost had them killing each other. "The most helpful thing I learned while we were trapped in the Enchanted Forest was to never provoke her. She's a lot more badass than she looks."

"I'm guessing you learned that the hard way?"

"Well, if you count almost being eaten by an ogre the hard way, then yeah, I did. She shot the thing in the eye."

"How are you, after that? In general, I mean. Being sucked through a portal must have been a little shocking, to say the least."

"I'm not here to talk about me, okay? You wanna talk about Henry, that's fine, but I'm off limits." Emma crossed her arms again.

"To be completely honest, Emma, I'm worried about you. You had PTSD in the past, and it could very well manifest itself again. I can already tell you're closing off again, which means you're feeling something you don't want to feel, and my guess is that it's that anxiety."

"I'm. Fine." She fought the urge to pick up the tissue box that was on the table next to her and hurl it at his head. Instead, she stormed out, and when she insisted on getting ice cream, Henry didn't complain. Part of him was always a little bit happy when she was in a bad mood, because that almost always meant a bunch of junk food.

Archie knew one thing: Emma Swan was most definitely _not_ okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME THIS LONG TO UPDATE. IF YOU READ MY OTHER STORIES, YOU MAY REMEMBER READING AN A/N EXPLAINING WHY: IN A NUTSHELL, SCHOOL'S STARTED AGAIN, AND I'M IN AN AP CLASS, AS WELL AS TAKING COLLEGE CLASSES AT A LOCAL COLLEGE (AS A JUNIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL), SO I'LL HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO, AND SCHOOL HAS TO BE MY TOP PRIORITY, RIGHT UNDER MY HEALTH. SO, I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR TAKING A LONG TIME TO UPDATE, BUT I PROMISE I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN. IF YOU WANT TO SEE ANY PARTICULAR SCENES, FEEL FREE TO PM ME OR TELL ME IN A REVIEW, AND I'LL DO WHAT I CAN TO WORK THEM INTO THE STORY. THANKS FOR READING! I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU.**

OUAT

_Archie knew one thing: Emma Swan was most definitely __not__ okay._

He briefly considered calling Snow (or David, whichever picked up), but he couldn't exactly call a twenty eight year old's parents, even if he had good reason to. Besides, he needed to build his relationship with Emma and earn her trust, and to do so, he'd need to keep whatever was said between them completely private. It wasn't like he was going to tell Snow and David the details of their session; that was against the law (not that Storybrooke really had any laws other than no murdering/kidnapping/ripping people's hearts out/otherwise inflicting bodily or mental harm). But still, he could express his concern as a friend.

He at least got the sense from Henry that he would deal with his PTSD and not push his family away. He was at the age where he could make decisions for himself and understand what had happened to, yet he was still young enough that though he was stubborn and independent, he would accept help. Maybe it wasn't so much his age; eleven years wasn't nearly enough time to be able to fully cope with what happened, but it was more his maturity level. That boy was wise beyond his years.

OUAT

With a sigh, Mary Margaret glanced at the LED readout on the stove for what felt like the hundredth time. Regina had decided she would pick him up from Emma at Archie's (she wanted the boy to pick apples with her, thinking he would like it)– only to find Henry waiting out front playing his Gameboy, but no Emma. She had, at least, had enough sense to send a quick text to Mary Margaret explaining that Emma was nowhere to be seen, so if she could let Emma know Henry hadn't been kidnapped again, that would be great. Immediately, Mary Margaret had texted Emma, but that was an hour ago, and still no reply.

"Maybe we should go look for her." She said.

"Snow," James looked up from his newspaper. "I'm sure she's fine."

"She didn't text me back." The brunette said pointedly, tossing the cell phone that was in her hand on the table for effect. She then glared at it.

"Maybe it didn't go through?" He suggested, moving from the arm chair in the living room to standing behind her, kneading the knots out of her shoulders. She tilted her head back until the crown of her head hit his chin.

"Or maybe she's ignoring me."

"Emma? Ignoring you! _Never_." He quipped and she made a sound akin to a snarl. "Come on, Snow, you know she's been through a lot in the past few months and hasn't really had any alone time. Maybe she's just taking a walk in the forest, which is why she didn't get your text. Or maybe she's talking to Archie." At that, she scoffed.

"That'll be the day."

"Henry's session with Archie was done over an hour ago. Even if… I just need to know where our _daughter_ is." Just then, the front door flew open, and Emma came into view. "Emma, where were you, we were so worried!" Snow exclaimed, restraining herself from enveloping the blonde in a bone-crushing bear hug.

"I went for a walk." She huffed, kicking her boots off. James hid a smile as the brunette walked over and fixed them on the mat, upright, while Emma made a beeline for the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of wine and set it on the table before grabbing two glasses. "I figured you'd rather have a beer." She said over her shoulder to James.

"Uh… yeah." He frowned. "Did Regina do something..?"

"Nope." Emma pulled the cork out of the bottle with more force than necessary. She poured Mary Margaret's glass and slid it over to her, then poured her own.

"That bad, huh?" The brunette looked at her daughter over the rim of her glass. Emma only groaned her response. After a few moments, she then said,

"I yelled at Archie." She sighed. "The poor guy was only trying to help, he was concerned, and I exploded on him."

"Everybody has those days, Em." Mary Margaret reached across the counter and put her hand on top of Emma's. At the shortening of her name, the blonde's eyes shot up to meet her mother's.

"I know, but it's Archie."

"I'm sure he's not holding it against you." James chimed in from the table.

"Yeah." Emma drummed her fingertips on the counter with the hand that wasn't holding the wine, effectively shaking Snow's off.

"What was it that set you off?" The brunette asked casually.

"Henry and I were supposed to get ice cream, but Regina decided that she and Henry were going to pick apples."

"That was after Archie."

"He made me talk about my PTSD!"

"You're angry." Snow commented.

"No shit." James and Snow made eye contact at their daughter's response.

"Emma? Would you like to go get ice cream now?" He asked hesitantly. At that, the blonde turned her attention to Snow.

"As long as she says so. She's the junk food police."

"Yes." Snow chuckled. "I think I'll make an exception."

**IF YOU WANT TO FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR FOR SNEAK PEEKS OF CHAPTERS, UPDATES ON HOW CLOSE I AM TO UPDATING, AND JUST GENERAL OUAT (AND CASTLE/NCIS/NCIS LA/RIZZOLI AND ISLES/MANY OTHER FANDOMS) STUFF, I'M: GO–DOWN–WITH–YOUR–SHIPS.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. I'VE HAD A LOT OF SCHOOL WORK AND FAMILY COMMITMENTS. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS MY UTTER APPRECIATION FOR ALL OF YOU GUYS. I KNOW MY UPDATES HAVE BEEN SPORADIC AT BEST, AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT. I REALLY AM. I'D MUCH RATHER WRITE THAN READ MY BIOLOGY BOOK, BUT SCHOOL COMES FIRST. SO, IN A NUTSHELL (I NEVER UNDERSTOOD THAT PHRASE, BUT WHATEVER), I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU ARE SPECIAL TO ME. I TRY TO RESPOND TO YOUR REVIEWS VIA PM-ING, BUT IF I DID MISS ONE OF YOU, JUST LET ME KNOW *SMILEY FACE*. **

OUAT

James sat in the back corner of Granny's Diner, looking at the giant bowl Emma currently had her spoon poised over. Just about anything that was chocolate in the world was in that bowl; chocolate ice cream, brownie pieces, crumbled Oreos, fudge swirl, chocolate sauce, chocolate sprinkles, hot fudge, and chocolate whipped cream. Emma had introduced the last item to Storybrooke a few weeks after she and Mary Margaret had returned home from the Enchanted Forest. Needless to say, James was nauseated just by the sight of it.

"Emma, are you sure that's not too much chocolate?" He asked, eyeing the chocolate mountain suspiciously. The blonde gave him an 'oh, please' look, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Just making sure." He said.

"You get the chocolate loving thing from me." Mary Margaret smiled. "He's more of a vanilla guy."

"Are you saying I'm average?"

"No, not at all, _Shepard_."

"Well, sorry not all of us can be naturally royal, _Princess_."

"Hey!"

"You started it!"

The friendly shouting match was grating on Emma's last nerve.

"Guys!" This shut both Mary Margaret and James up. "I'm getting a migraine, and the chocolate isn't gonna help it if you two keep making that much noise." Her parents shrunk down in their seats, looking down at their hands; they certainly had never thought their daughter would be the one yelling at them. Then again, most husbands and wives didn't have a daughter that was the same age as them.

"Sorry, Emma." They both muttered. Ruby skipped over with their ice cream –vanilla with butterscotch sauce for James, and chocolate with hot fudge for Mary Margaret.

"Sometimes, I could swear they're siblings." The waitress smirked, giving Emma a sympathetic look. "If you need anything else, including a muzzle for them, just let me know." With a wink, she bounded off to take Dr. Whale's order.

"When we get home you should probably take some Advil." Mary Margaret said softly, abandoning her spoon for a moment to take Emma's hand in hers –of course, it was the one that wasn't busy with a spoon, because no one got between Emma Swan and her food. The brunette hid a smile when Emma squeezed, not wanting to scare her away.

"I'll be okay." The blonde said, her voice equally as soft. "I'm probably just hungry or something."

"Or upset." Mary Margaret commented. This caused Emma to retract her hand, but it was worth it if it got Emma to talk –chances were her headache would get better, too. Emma sighed, stabbing the ice cream with her spoon.

"He had no right to go probing into my life like that, especially with some bullshit excuse about it being for 'Henry's sake, because links have been found between genetics and PTSD'. I mean, _come on_, did he really think I was going to buy that?"

"Emma, he only cares about you, you have to know that." James stepped in, hoping to defuse the situation.

"What, is he my godfather, like Ruby's my godmother?" The blonde rolled her eyes. Ruby yelled from across the diner,

"I heard that! And I take my job as your godmother very seriously, just so you know."

"Actually, you have seven." Mary Margaret sent an apologetic look to Ruby, then turned her attention back to her daughter.

"You're kidding me, right? The seven dwarfs are my godfathers?"

"There would have been eight, but Stealthy was killed." Mary Margaret deadpanned, happy to run with Emma's disbelief –even after everything– that fairytales were one hundred percent real. For the next few minutes, everyone was silent. King and queen were thinking about Stealthy, their beloved and fallen comrade, while Emma was simply enjoying her ice cream. Unfortunately for the blonde, her cellphone buzzed, pulling her out of her chocolaty bliss. She fished it out of her pocket and frowned when she read the screen. It was a text from Regina:

_ Not that I care, but are you okay? You didn't even argue when I asked Henry to __come over to my house._

Emma typed back a quick response:

_Fine._

She put the period to signal that their conversation was over. Both women would begrudgingly admit they had bonded a little over the course of their little escapade in Neverland. They wouldn't call themselves friends, but they were more alike than they had known. That was all fine and dandy when they had to offer silent support when hitting dead end after dead end after dead end, but now it was simply annoying; neither was ever willing to bear her soul to the other, yet they simply _couldn't stop_ knowing when the other wasn't okay.

"Is Henry alright?" Mary Margaret asked quietly.

"Yeah." Emma answered after a moment, shaking her head to clear away the sudden fogginess. "Hey, has Regina used magic since we got back?"

"No, why?" Now it was Mary Margaret's turn to frown.

"Just…" the younger woman sighed, knowing she was heading to into dangerous territory. "Maybe it would be better for Henry if the family got along. I mean, it's obvious that she doesn't want to kill you quite as much as she did before, and she doesn't hate me anymore, but I imagine the whole blood feud thing is stressful for the kid."

"Emma," James scratched at the back of his head, trying to find the right wording, "we've tried."

"That was before Henry. Look, we've all proven –Gold, Regina, you guys, me, Hook– all of us have proven that we can work together. We may not always like it, but it _works_. We're the worlds', and yeah, I mean pluralized 'world', most dysfunctional family ever, but maybe it's time to end it all. Pain has only come out of it on _both sides_, not just ours."

"I don't disagree." James said evenly. "but–"

"No 'buts'." Emma cut him off firmly. "If you asked me a year ago if I'd be anything like I am now, I'd say 'hell no'. I know you don't always think it, but people can change. I did. Mo– Mary Margaret did. You don't always see it, but Regina has. The way she is with Henry, the way she looks at him, I'd almost call it soft. Almost. And Gold, since Neal's back in his life, and Belle, he's been better. Sometimes it takes longer, but… I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm still incredibly pissed about missing out on twenty eight years with you two and having to give up my son for ten years, but holding those things against Regina and Neal, it doesn't change anything. The best we can do is move on and look ahead because the one thing we _can_ change is tomorrow."

"Emma Swan, I didn't know you could be so philosophical." Mary Margaret's eyes held so much love and pride, Emma had to look away.

"Shut up." She muttered before digging back into her ice cream.


	7. Chapter 7

**I AM SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG TO GET THIS CHAPTER UP. SCHOOL HAS BEEN CRAZY AND I'VE BEEN WORKING BOTH DAYS ON THE WEEKEND, SO I'VE BARELY HAD TIME TO BREATHE. AGAIN, I'M SO SORRY. **

**TO "GUEST": FIRST OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO REVIEW. I WAS THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU SAID, ABOUT WANTING ME TO CALL DAVID 'DAVID', NOT 'JAMES'. I JUST WANT TO SAY A COUPLE THINGS: ONE IS THAT STORYBROOKE (EXCEPT FOR MAYBE RUBY) KNOWS DAVID AS KING JAMES. AND HIS VERSION OF KING JAMES WASN'T A BAD ONE. THAT'S ONE OF THE REASONS I'M WRITING IT AS 'JAMES'. ALSO, I DON'T WANT TO CHANGE IT NOW BECAUSE I'VE WRITTEN SIX CHAPTERS WITH HIM AS 'JAMES'. I REALLY APPRECIATE YOU TAKING THE TIME OUT OF WHAT I'M ASSUMING IS A BUSY SCHEDULE, AS IS EVERYBODY'S, TO REVIEW. AND I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, I REALLY DO. ALL I CAN SAY IS IF IT'S THAT DISTRACTING, THEN YOU CAN CHOOSE NOT TO READ ANYMORE, WHICH WOULD BE UNFORTUNATE IN MY OPINION SINCE YOU SEEM TO LIKE THIS STORY OTHER THAN THE NAME THING. THAT BEING SAID, I VALUE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY READERS, SO I DON'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE, BUT I ALSO DON'T WANT YOU TO BE UPSET WHILE READING A STORY.**

**DON'T OWN ONCE UPON A TIME OR ITS CHARACTERS.**

* * *

Henry was home in one piece just in time for dinner. Of course, he had grass stains and dirt smudges all over him. At first, Emma couldn't believe it; would Regina _really_ let him get that dirty? The more she thought about it, the more she honestly thought Regina sent him home like that just to spite her for all the times she'd done the same. While the soup finished simmering on the stove, Emma instructed Henry to go shower after she ruffled his hair and a leaf fell out.

"Damn it." Mary Margaret muttered, her eyes scanning the open cupboard.

"What?" The blonde asked, moving into the kitchen from the living room.

"The bread was fine yesterday." She said, pointing to the Italian loaf in question. "Now it has a spot of mold."

"It's fine, we can eat it." Emma shrugged.

"No, it's not. I won't have you getting sick." The brunette shook her head firmly. "I'll just go run out quickly. I'll be back." She said, her words come out a little too fast for Emma's liking. The taller woman narrowed her eyes. Her mother was avoiding eye contact. The bread _was_ moldy, but still… something felt off.

In truth, Mary Margaret knew she was taking a risk, but it was a tiny white lie. She'd known yesterday that there was a tiny speck of blue, but she hadn't felt like braving the harsh winds of fall in Storybrooke. She'd meant to grab another loaf today, but she'd forgotten after Emma stopped refusing to return her calls or texts. It was a perfect excuse to get out of the apartment to call Archie to find out exactly how her daughter was doing. And buy a new loaf of Italian bread, of course. She felt Emma's eyes on the back of her head all the way to the door. Even after she closed it, she still felt green eyes so much like her own burning a hole into her skull. She always did have a guilt complex.

* * *

"Hello?" Archie answered his cell phone on the fourth ring.

"Hi, Archie." Mary Margaret chirped. "How're you doing?"

"I'm good, thanks. And yourself?"

"I'm fine." She smiled, then mentally berated herself. He couldn't see it. "Hey, I have a question, if you don't mind me asking."

"Shoot." In his house, Archie plopped down into his easy chair.

"I know you can't tell me any specifics, you know, that whole patient doctor confidentiality thing, but… you were simply talking to Emma today as a friend, right?"

"Yes." He said after a moment. Maybe it was a little unethical, but the woman was just concerned for her daughter, a daughter she'd lost far too much time with.

"Is she okay? Really okay, I mean." Mary Margaret held her breath.

"She's… well, let me put it this way: I'm not worried about her that much." Archie shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. "But here's the thing; as you know, she's stubborn as a mule." She muffled a sigh. She already didn't like where this was going. "And I'm not saying any of this is bad, but it does make this whole mess a lot more complicated. She's a fighter, she's logical. She can mentally understand there's no reason to be fearful, but emotionally? Not so much. She's fighting the PTSD, and I'm not sure if that's helpful or hurtful yet. But I _will _say one thing, Snow: Emma's as tough as they come. Whatever happens, I honestly believe that she will be okay." He said firmly.

"Yeah, she is." She sighed, fiddling with her ring with the hand that wasn't occupied with the phone. "But we don't need to do anything different other than be here for her, right? No special phrases to avoid saying?"

"No." Now it was Archie's turn to smile throught he phone. "My suggestion is to follow your instincts. Sometimes she'll need comfort, sometimes she'll need space. She may not even know what she wants."

"The last option is generally the norm." Mary Margaret laughed. "Listen, I have to go, but Archie? Thank you so much. Really, I mean it, you've definitely made me a little less anxious."

"Anytime, my friend." The ex-cricket said. With that, he snapped his cell phone closed.

* * *

"I'm back!" Mary Margaret announced, kicking the door shut behind her. The sight before her made her do a double take; James, Emma, and Henry were seated at the table, food in front of them, but not eating. _What the Hell_, she thought. Her two boys and girl never lost their appetite, so why were they just sitting there?

"We wanted to wait for you." Emma explained, gesturing. "You know, cause… you know." She turned a light shade of pink and proceeded to stare down at her plate. Mary Margaret was touched. It might seem like a normal family thing to anyone else, but Emma was all but telling her that she wanted to wait to eat until Mary Margaret got home so they could eat together as a _family_.

"Yes, I do know." The brunette said sarcastically, but when Emma's head snapped up –presumably because she thought Mary Margaret missed that big giant step she had taken– mother and daughter locked eyes, and Mary Margaret sent her a look that said 'I know what you did'. Emma visibly relaxed for two reasons: one was that she could tell her mother was beyond thrilled and two, it wasn't turning into one of those mushy, emotional moments.

"Thank God." The blonde said, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. Henry laughed, following suit. Raising his wine glass as a toast to his wife for getting the bread (he just couldn't have chicken without Italian bread, the idea was foreign to him), James took a sip before digging into his own dinner. "You're just lucky you didn't get here a minute later, or I would've started without you. I'm _starving_."

"When are you not, Em?" The shortening of her name came out automatically, and Snow was quite thankful she had put the Italian bread on the counter to slice so she didn't drop it when her hand flew up to her mouth. She didn't dare turn around to gauge her daughter's reaction.

"Never." Emma muttered around a bite of mashed potato. She had heard the nickname but chose not to comment on it, or even react to it. That would just cause her family to talk about it, and she had no desire to do so.

"Same." Henry nodded eagerly, trying to direct the conversation in a different direction for his mother's sake. "Hey so um… I was thinking after dinner maybe we could um… can we watch America's Funniest Videos?" Now it was Emma's turn to do a double take. Apparently apple picking with Regina got his mind off of Neverland.

"Absolutely." She replied with a small smile when in truth, she wanted to leap over the table, jump up and down, all while with Henry wrapped up in the biggest bear hug ever. Of course, she didn't; she still had a reputation to maintain after all.

* * *

"So what did Archie say?" James asked as he slid onto the love seat next to Mary Margaret. He had checked in on Emma and Henry up in the loft, and they were both out like a light, Henry's book tucked in between them.

"I –what?" She startled, looking up from her book with wide eyes.

"Snow, come on." He wrapped his hand around hers. "I know you well enough to know that despite your name, you hate going out in the cold once you've been inside for a while. Yesterday we were going to have chicken, but suddenly you thought it was a great night for our darling daughter's personal favorite, grilled cheese. You used the moldy bread as an excuse to interrogate Archie." Her green eyes flicked to the door, then back to his.

"I just wanted to know what I can do to help her, cause God knows she won't ask for it."

"And?" He prompted gently, rubbing circles on the top of her hand with his thumb.

"She's okay." Mary Margaret whispered, her voice quiet both because of disbelief and despair. "I don't know how, and I don't think she will be for long, but she's not terrified like Henry is."

"I'll take what we can get." He said, equally as softly.


End file.
